


Rumor Has It

by them1ghtypen



Series: Two Sides, One Coin: Anthology [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 17:42:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17064230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/them1ghtypen/pseuds/them1ghtypen
Summary: As everyone anywhere is aware – the maids know everything. So if one is in search of a good gossip, one only has to find the royal maids of Camelot to hear everything there is to know about Prince Arthur. Unfortunately, rumors develop a mind of their own, and visiting knights and ladies have their own opinions about Arthur’s relationship with his manservant. Because the maids were actually wrong about one thing – that Merlin was Arthur’s mistress. Until one day they weren’t.





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

> Would most of these conversations happen in this time period? Probably, but not with the wordage I wrote haha. But this is absolute and utter fluff, and meant to be funny, not accurate. Absolutely no angst – okay so perhaps angst did worm its way in here just a touch – but it’s mostly just pure fluff and lots of humor. Oh and sex.

 

It started off small – one of those things that is harmless in its initial intent before growing a mind of its own. As it stood, Merlin figured if it was easier for the royal staff to believe that it was why Arthur cared for him so much then so be it. Merlin preferred to think that it was because despite Uther’s insistence for Arthur to be hard, the prince really had a big, caring and open heart underneath all of his prattish-ness. His sense of honor was also unrivaled – and if so then only by Lancelot – and though he never said it out loud, Arthur was a firm believer in life debts. So when Merlin had thrown himself out there to the whole court’s ridicule and punishment by drinking a poisoned goblet, it was perfectly understandable – expected even – for Arthur to have risked his life to get the antidote. It was also no great surprise for Merlin when Arthur joined him when Ealdor had been in danger.

However, that still didn’t make hearing it any simpler for Merlin when he nearly walked in on the kitchen staff and maids having a good gossip. He usually ignored the gossip and went about his business without care. He only stopped just out of sight this time because they’d said his name.

“What about Merlin?” That was the cook, Margot.

A maid, Merlin wasn’t sure who, piped up. “Surely you’ve noticed the regard His Royal Prince has for his manservant?”

“Bite your tongue, Nina!” Margot gasped.

“Think about it, Margot,” said another. “We’ve met plenty of visiting royal parties that don’t treat their slaves or servants anywhere near as well as the Prince does.”

“Girls, lower your voices!” she hissed out, still sounding scandalized.

“No one will hear us, Margot!” This from yet another maid – no, perhaps another member of the kitchen staff. “Merlin is off on some duties for his majesty, and I’m sure the Prince will sequester him away and use up all of his time once those duties are done. You know how late Merlin tends to stay in his chambers.”

Margot spluttered before finally choking out, “What _are_ you saying?”

Nina let out a giggle. “Simply that Merlin must ensure _all_ of the Prince’s needs are met, including his more… amorous tendencies.”

All of the staff in the kitchen burst into hysterical, quiet giggles, and Merlin knew the back of his neck was bright red.

“Merlin does tend to look quite… ruffled all of the time, if you know what I mean. Like he has too much to do and not enough sleep,” one chuckled.

“That does not mean that Merlin is… servicing His Highness,” Margot chided, but Merlin could hear the growing humor in her voice, and now the tips of his ears were hot.

“It’s not unusual, Margot,” Nina matter-of-factly. “I’ve helped plenty of visiting royals, and the majority of them are married with a mistress on the side. Most men tend to have male lovers – to avoid scandal and bastard children – and the women generally have male lovers, too. Though some have had female lovers, it’s just not seen as often.”

Margot was positively scandalized again. “Where on _earth_ have you heard or seen such things, child?”

Indeed, Nina couldn’t have been much older than Merlin himself, and even this information was news to him. He’d never heard of such things as this, though to be fair he’d only been in service of the royal court for nigh eight months.

“My parents served knights and I came here five years ago. You tend to hear and see things fast, especially since knights are not the most close-lipped.”

“Well, I’ve long since guessed but never…” Margot trailed off.

“You’re the cook, Margot,” another maid cut in. “You hardly leave the kitchen, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t have much experience with it. It is… uncomfortable to say the least when you accidentally walk in on nobles… well…”

“Have you ever caught the Prince and Merlin?” one asked eagerly.

Another fit of giggles ensued, and the redness now spread to Merlin’s face.

“No,” another one answered, one that hadn’t spoken before but Merlin recognized her voice. She would occasionally call a greeting when he was passing the hallways near Arthur’s chambers. “But I’ve seen the way that they interact with each other, and the Prince is always close to him in some way – I mean, the Prince just got back from travelling to a neighboring _kingdom_ to destroy bandits bothering Merlin’s _mother_. That in and of itself – do you know Merlin doesn’t even _knock_? He must be _very_ good for the Prince to grant him such liberties.”

Swiftly, Merlin turned on his heel, taking that as his cue to leave. He had never been one for idle gossip, and he had heard quite enough to burn his ears for days. He of course knew the truth – that nothing of the sort was happening between him and Arthur. And yes, while they had returned from Ealdor only a few days prior, Merlin knew it was because deep down, Arthur truly had a heart for people no matter who they were or what their station.

It bothered him for a few days after that – now he certainly _did_ notice how close Arthur would stand near him or whisper to him or touch him in some way – but as Arthur proceeded to get himself into trouble again – first with a unicorn and then with his life in the balance and the questing beast – Merlin promptly forgot such gossip existed.

The rumor only popped up again in his third year of service among the controversy that was Lady Elena. This time he came upon all of the maids gathered for laundry in the lower town late in the evening. A few were still scrubbing, and others were puttering back and forth hanging the bundled linens up to dry. Arthur’s own laundry stuffed his arms, and the sour smell they emitted of a hard days’ training caused Merlin’s nose to wrinkle. And yet he still paused, nearly mid-step when they tutted to each other.

One was saying, “I can’t believe the Prince is getting married! And to such a Princess! It is lovely that she’s quite like us – clumsy and unkempt and never knowing the right thing to say. She is awfully kind, but I never imagined the Prince marrying a Princess like her. I always thought he was too enamored with Merlin.”

“Yes, have you _seen_ the way he seeks refuge from the banquets with him? Lady Elena really isn’t _that_ bad but you’d think his Highness was dying from the way he consistently stands near Merlin.”

“It’s a wonder he’s never dropped the jug of wine when the Prince gets so close to his ear,” another one giggled. Merlin agreed it was a wonder. Sometimes, inexplicably, his body would go numb and tingly when Arthur looked at him in _just that way_ , and he always had to fight for a moment to focus on Arthur’s words. Then the moment would pass, and something else Arthur did a few days later would cause it to come back.

Another one sighed dreamily. “And have you seen the _looks_ they give each other? I would willingly give my firstborn to have a man look at me the way Merlin looks at the Prince.”

Merlin nearly choked. _Had_ he been looking at Arthur the way they were saying? Surely not!

“Firstborn? I’d willingly go barren to have someone care about me the way his Highness does for Merlin.”

“They’re almost _always_ together except for when the Prince is training his knights or in court with the King.”

“And even then, he drags Merlin with him when he trains. Have you _seen_ the way that Merlin watches him training the other knights?” One maid fanned her face. “I could light candles from all that heat.”

“They’re always walking _beside_ each other too – have you noticed? It is not proper etiquette at all to walk next to nobility let alone royalty, and yet they walk together like equals.”

“Merlin must be an awfully good lay.”

“Merlin? Try the Prince! He must be _very_ talented to have won Merlin over so quickly, much less have him waiting on him hand and foot.”

“I know if I were to look at a man the way Merlin does the Prince, it would be because he is quite amazing in bed.”

“Come off it; do you not want love too?”

“I suppose, but if there’s pleasure like _that_ to be had then I believe I’d sacrifice love for it.”

The maids all giggled, with a few exclamations of “no” and “me too” thrown in there, but Merlin barely heard. His whole body felt hot, too hot, and his skin itched. His heart pounded, and he barely felt the weight of Arthur’s laundry. His head was stuffy, his tongue thick.

“Oh, do you think the Princess Elena would let the Prince keep him?”

“I doubt she could influence him to let Merlin go.”

“I’m sure she would let Merlin stay. She does not look too thrilled to be marrying the Prince, either. I wonder what has been said? Perhaps he’s already mentioned something to her about Merlin.”

“I doubt that. He certainly doesn’t seem to want to be around her for long – he just can’t seem to avoid her.”

“Not for lack of trying. The King has been quite adamant that the Prince marry – so perhaps he has no choice?”

One gasped quickly. “Do you think _His Majesty_ knows that Merlin is the Prince’s mistress?”

Another scoffed. “If he does then he blatantly ignores it. But I do not think so. I think if he did Merlin would no longer be his Highness’ manservant.”

“I agree. But were it so I do not believe that our Prince would let Merlin go so easily.”

“Heavens not!”

“He’s _already_ defied the King for Merlin on other occasions, for Camelot’s sake!”

“I know he’s a servant but I doubt even Merlin would give up on the Prince so easily, either. He follows him everywhere – I can’t decide if that’s love, devotion or duty.”

The laundry in Merlin’s arms fell. His vision blurred as he sank to the ground, still out of sight. He no longer heard their words as they continued talking, but his mind buzzed uncontrollably.

All this time, Merlin had rationalized that his pursuit of Arthur was purely duty – there was a prophecy about the two of them after all, and Arthur got himself into so many ridiculous magical entanglements that it was all Merlin could do most days to keep him out of them. Were he to leave Arthur alone, he would no doubt manage to get himself into another debacle of some sort, and Merlin would have to work twice as hard to get him out of it.

Suddenly, he realized that duty had nothing to do with it anymore. Arthur had earned his respect with his fierce loyalty and bravery, even when Merlin could see his anxiety. Arthur had earned his trust when he stood up for what he believed in, and the conviction he had in his friends. He had earned Merlin’s devotion, because while Arthur could certainly be a prat, he was the last of his knights to lay down for bed, the last of his knights to eat despite the deference they attempted to show him.

And finally, Merlin knew now, that he did, in fact, love Arthur. He was loyal, fair, devoted to his knights, stood up to his father when he had to even though Merlin knew how much it cost the prince. Uther was never gracious – most days certainly not to his son – and Arthur had even defended Merlin on occasion, even when Uther had been in a frightful rage. But Merlin knew, more than that, his love had begun during their quiet talks, when Arthur was at his most vulnerable. He wondered if perhaps everyone had an agenda but him, which was why Arthur chose most often to seek him out. He spoke to Merlin not as a servant but as a _friend_. As someone he trusted.

The maids were correct in that Arthur treated him better than any servant, but they didn’t see everything. They saw the closeness, yes, but a closeness that grew not only because they spent time together, but because they shared the parts of themselves they never showed anyone else – like Arthur’s mother and Merlin’s father. And it was Arthur’s heart, that gave and gave and gave and had learned not to expect anything in return and still gave to others that had Merlin hopelessly in love with him. Which was why he always tried to give back to Arthur more than he gave to him.

By the time Merlin was able to stand to launder Arthur’s clothes, the maids had all left and it was well into the night. Even as he cleaned, the revelation struck him again and again, new and exciting and terrifying and hopeless.

He was in love with the Crown Prince of Camelot.

Despite his revelation, nothing changed in the relationship. Arthur was still the same Arthur, though Merlin doubted he was the same Merlin. The maids’ words still rang in his head, yet he couldn’t help the way he looked at the Prince. Except perhaps there were quite a few more furtive glances cast on Arthur’s mouth, the way his body moved during training, and the way his back muscles flexed underneath his skin when he was undressing. Merlin had to admit that while Arthur’s front was definitely impressive, his strong back that arched into two dimples just above his ass were really what made him weak in the knees.

The maids’ chatter increased, still oblivious to his eavesdropping, though this time he didn’t even bother to stop and listen. He knew the looks between him and Arthur had become… well, _more_. He knew what it was on his part, but he wondered what it could possibly be for Arthur.

Then, the world turned upside down and within two short years Morgana betrayed them; Uther died immediately after preventing an attempt on Arthur’s life; and Arthur’s uncle Agravaine proved to be treacherous in helping Morgana claim Camelot. Since Arthur had just learned of Agravaine’s betrayal, it was risky to tell the truth, but once Merlin had given Arthur his confidence back, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“You’re going to take back Camelot, Arthur, and I’m going to help you do it.”

“No offense, Merlin, but you don’t have that many skills,” Arthur teased, yet Merlin could see through that to the concern in his eyes. “I mean, you’re fair with a crossbow but that’s about it. Morgana has powerful magic and I don’t know how we’ll compete with that.”

He took the last few remaining steps that separated him from Arthur. “All your men – your people – are behind you, Arthur. We will defeat Morgana. She may have magic, but so do I, and I’m on your side. I _will_ help you take back Camelot.”

Before Arthur could call him back Merlin had hurried away, mounting his horse and heading straight for Camelot. In the end, his ploy to thwart her had worked – without her magic Morgana had run away from Camelot, and her army had been easily defeated. Arthur himself had been the one to kill Agravaine, and was crowned king once again. Yet their closeness had dissolved. And if Merlin felt it, the maids had definitely noticed.

“They rarely see each other anymore, and they are certainly not comfortable around each other anymore, either. What do you think could have happened?”

“Maybe Merlin doesn’t wish to be the King’s mistress anymore?”

“I don’t know. I do know that the King hasn’t been his usual self with Merlin, so if there’s anything wrong, it’s probably to do with him.”

“Do you think that he cut Merlin off for… I don’t know, marriage purposes, perhaps? I mean, he hasn’t taken a wife yet. That is a bit odd.”

“Not at all,” said an older maid. “I’ve been with this household since birth. Uther didn’t marry Lady Ygraine until he’d ruled alone for three years.”

“Still, perhaps it’s for the best. The King can’t always _only_ have a mistress, can he?”

“I believe he can do whatever he pleases. He _is_ the king after all,” the older maid huffed, before quickly walking out. Merlin didn’t have enough time to move, so he froze against the wall as she turned the corner. She only stood shocked for a moment before her weathered face softened, and she reached a hand out to pat Merlin’s shoulder.

“Come now,” he murmured quietly, and amidst the chatter in the kitchen Merlin doubted they heard her. “It does no good to listen to them.”

Merlin nodded. He knew this, but recently he had taken to eavesdropping since the maids – despite their misconceptions about him and Arthur – generally did know everything. If anything had changed with Arthur at all then he was pretty certain the maids would know. But no new information presented itself, and it pained him every time he heard them talk. So he stepped away and followed the older maid until their paths parted.

So it came as a surprise – one that nearly knocked Merlin to the floor – when a month later Arthur announced that he was overturning his father’s law and allowing magic to return to Camelot.

And finally, _finally_ , later that evening they talked. It was silly to hold back now, so whatever questions Arthur asked, Merlin answered. It was well past dawn when they finally ran out of things to say, words that been months and years in the making but were finally out in the open.

The rumors exploded once more – of course never past the royal staff lest any of the nobility hear and pass it on to Arthur – and now Merlin shook his head. They were still untrue, and while his love had increased, he knew that he and Arthur were closer now than they ever had been. There was something thrilling about performing magic in front of Arthur, and it was ridiculously freeing to be himself and have Arthur accept him.

Over the next few years, the gossip died down, though occasionally Merlin did hear the maids’ confusion on why Arthur _still_ hadn’t shown any inclination to marry. But peace had finally come to Camelot, and Merlin was much too happy to really care what the maids said. He and Arthur were close, best friends – though Arthur would never admit it – his magic was accepted, and that was all that truly mattered. Yes, he did quite wish to kiss his king, and it was quite hard to keep his touches casual as he helped Arthur dress, and many times he wondered what it would be like if he actually _were_ Arthur’s mistress, but he knew nothing would ever come of it. He loved his King, and while Arthur’s friendly grips on his shoulder or the ruffling of his hair would never be enough to curb his longing, he wasn’t Arthur’s manservant for that. He’d never had anyone as important to him as Arthur, and he would never willingly give that up – feelings be damned. So, since he wasn’t really Arthur’s mistress, and no one was really the wiser, he didn’t feel the need to shut down the rumors. He hadn’t said anything in all these years, and they were truly harmless enough. The knights didn’t know – at least as far as he knew since they hadn’t said anything – and Arthur remained unaware as well, so he figured there was no need.

He should have known that eventually, it would bite him in the ass.

As part of his kingly obligations, it was Arthur’s duty to host various Lords and Ladies and Kings and Princesses when they happened to be passing through Camelot or were there specifically to visit Arthur. Merlin often had to tamp down his teasing smile, though it wouldn’t get past Arthur and he’d receive a smack to the back of his head for his efforts. But he knew better than anyone that Arthur was infinitely more comfortable with a sword in hand, death an adrenaline-inducing shadow beside him as he viciously fought bandits and other threats to the kingdom.

If there was one thing Arthur was _not_ , it was an idle king.

If there was one thing that Arthur _was_ , it was terrified.

Well, terrified in the fact that when confronted with eligible ladies, Arthur, as dignified as he could, would run from them like a five-year-old child scared of monsters. It never failed to make Merlin snort as he attempted to cover his laughter, but Arthur knew he laughed. He always knew. And while his knights were all aware of Arthur’s discomfort and would smile amongst themselves, they never said anything. Merlin knew it was more the act of marriage than the ladies themselves that caused Arthur panic, but he still found it too amusing to completely keep quiet.

And that was where they currently found themselves, surrounded by a party of five – Eoghan, a passing knight and his two sisters Aeron and Calla, accompanied by two other knights for protection. One of the sisters, Aeron – who had bright orange hair and continuously pinched her cheeks for color – kept giving Arthur eyes, and it was all Merlin could do not to laugh out loud at Arthur’s squirming. As it was, he was leaning down to pour Arthur some more wine when she sent the king another heated look. Immediately, Arthur snagged his hand in the front of Merlin’s tunic and tugged him closer, their noses nearly knocking together from the force with which Arthur pulled him down.

There was a moment of hesitation, of surprise that Arthur hadn’t realized they were this close, before he recovered and whispered forcefully, “Merlin, get me out of here.”

He couldn’t help the grin that easily spread across his mouth. “But you have duties here, sire. Now how would it look if I took you away from the festivities?”

Arthur grunted, looking pained. “Can’t you just… magic something to happen? She’s bloody taking my clothes off from across the table!” he hissed.

Merlin snorted, the action causing his forehead to knock against Arthur’s nose, and a truly pained, “ _Merlin!_ ” growled low in Arthur’s throat. He huffed a laugh again.

“Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“Perhaps.”

This time Arthur did glare at him, and Merlin had the sudden realization that they were still far too close to be appropriate at any time, much less in a banquet hall full of guests. But he couldn’t pull back – Arthur’s fist still viciously gripped the front of his shirt. A quick glance around told him that while people were still talking to each other, they weren’t going unnoticed. So he did the only thing he could think of.

“My Lord, are you scared of her?” he teased.

Arthur’s brows slammed together. “No!” he said a little too loudly, and nearly shoved Merlin away. Merlin grinned, and Arthur grunted out an annoyed, “If you aren’t going to be useful then the least you can do is get me some more capon. If I can’t leave then I can at least stuff myself, drink too much wine and claim illness.”

“I’ll get on loosening your belts right away, sire.”

“Merlin!” he hissed, but it was too late. He’d already let go of his shirt, and Merlin had hurried away to grab more food.

Once in the hall, Merlin leaned against the stone and let his head fall back. That had been too close. He’d barely kept his eyes on Arthur’s instead of on his lips, and he’d tried not to notice that once or twice, Arthur’s had slipped to his. His heart pounded, and he could still feet the warmth of Arthur’s hand against his collarbone. Swallowing, he willed his body to stop tingling. Letting out a stuttered breath, he ran a hand through his hair.

Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps he couldn’t love from afar, not without his feelings getting in the way. A year ago, he’d been content to watch over Arthur, to love him but accept the fact that he was his manservant, that he used his magic to help Arthur and nothing more. It’d been getting harder recently. Not quite for the fact that many eligible ladies had been paraded in front of Arthur – although he wouldn’t deny that a few times jealousy had reared its ugly head – but because he knew from being Arthur’s manservant that, well, marriage seemed to terrify Arthur more than any threat to his life. And when it troubled Arthur, he came to Merlin, confided in _him_.

And his feelings _were_ getting in the way. A few times he’d catch Arthur’s gaze lingering on his lips, or on the hollow of his throat when he wasn’t wearing his neckerchief. Sometimes Arthur’s hand would stay on his shoulder longer than necessary, or he’d toe the line of appropriateness with how close he’d sit next to Merlin. If Merlin lagged behind more than a few feet, Arthur’s sharp call of his name would bring him closer. All of this allowed Merlin’s thoughts to wander, had his body shuddering under the looks or contact, and sometimes gooseflesh would break out all over his skin if Arthur’s breath ghosted too close to his neck.

His feelings told him those touches and looks and gestures meant something, but there had never been any other inclination that Arthur felt even remotely similar to him. He consistently argued with himself that he was wrong, that it was how Arthur acted with everyone, but that niggling voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Arthur, in fact, did _not_ act that way with everyone.

“Merlin?”

His eyes flew open and he sucked in a startled breath, looking at a chamber maid that had stopped close to him, worry evident on her features. He recognized her as Nina, and immediately the tips of his ears reddened.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, quickly pushing himself off the wall and grabbing a platter and flagon. “Got distracted.” He smiled, and she smiled back.

“Are you alright?”

He shrugged. “Lots to do. Arthur being demanding as usual; the guests.”

She nodded, and moved towards the table. “Need any help?”

“I got it,” he smiled, and moved back into the great hall, hoping he hadn’t been out in the hallway too long. Unfortunately, from the heat of Arthur’s glare, he had been.

Yet he tightened his lips to keep the grin from exploding across his face at Arthur’s thunderous look. He caught Nina following him with another platter, and knew the court gossip would explode. Especially when Arthur’s glare never left him, and his hand once more grasped Merlin’s coat, this time at his shoulder, and yanked him down. He nearly lost the platter and caused the tankard of wine to spill, but he caught it at the last moment.

He sent Arthur a glare. “Sire, if you expect me to get you wine and capon then the least you can do is not make me spill it.”

“Do not… _ever_ …leave me alone with her… _again_.” His voice was low but his tone murderous. Merlin grinned, and tried to dislodge Arthur’s hand from his coat, but it was no use.

“And yet, when do I listen to you, my lord? I am your servant, after all, and I have certain tasks at banquets. None of which require keeping you and various ladies from having some _time alone_.”

Arthur spluttered. “I don’t _want_ time alone, _Mer_ lin! They look like…ravenous wolves,” he muttered, an uncomfortable expression flitting over his face.

He couldn’t hold it in any longer and finally laughed. Perhaps a little too loudly, but chatter had gotten louder by that point – most likely due to the overflowing wine – so he was not heard. Arthur, however, was positively red-faced and _offended_.

“It’s not funny, _Mer_ lin.”

“It is,” he chuckled. “It really is.”

“It is not!”

“Please, sire, I hardly doubt they’ll damage your precious virtue with their ravenous looks.”

Arthur squawked, and said, “ _My_ virtue?”

“You honestly don’t expect me to believe your virtue to be intact, sire, do you? When I met you, you were the Crown Prince of Camelot and a royal prat. I’m sure you blinked and women came running. Men probably too, for that matter. Squires. Other knights perhaps?”

Merlin had honestly only been teasing, but the red splotches breaking out on Arthur’s cheeks told Merlin that he had shockingly been correct. The knowledge caused the tingles in his stomach to explode into gooseflesh as Arthur attempted to come back with a, “And I suppose you have a right to speak since _your_ virtue is still intact, is it?”

“As a matter of fact, it is,” Merlin snorted, and this time he was successful when he pulled back and Arthur’s fingers let go of his coat. His face showed his utter shock, and Merlin wanted to laugh and grimace at the same time. He honestly hadn’t meant to say that, since it wasn’t true, but the shock still furrowing Arthur’s brows was worth it.

Smile still in place he glanced at the sisters once more. Aeron really did have her eyes set on Arthur, occasionally running her fingers through her hair and sighing wistfully. Calla was the other sister, with blond hair and pale skin, and she was looking at…

Oh. _Oh._ She was looking at _him_. When she realized she’d caught his eye, she wiggled straighter in her seat and her tongue flicked out of her mouth to lick her lips so lewdly that there was absolutely no doubt what she meant. _Oh_. Merlin nearly dropped the tankard he’d been holding. Ravenous wolf indeed. Swallowing, he leaned closer to Arthur.

“Nevermind, sire.” He cleared his throat. “I understand your meaning.”

At Arthur’s questioning look, Merlin tilted his head towards the ladies. Merlin straightened, Calla’s eyes following him as Aeron still watched Arthur as if entranced. When Arthur caught what Merlin meant, the smirk that stretched across his face made him regret ever saying anything.

He stepped back, grumbling, skin itching every time he felt Calla’s eyes on him.

Which was why, merely an hour after attending to Arthur the next morning, Merlin found himself skidding through the castle corridors in a desperate attempt to lose Calla. He turned down one corridor, one with lots of alcoves, and nearly stopped at his surprise seeing Arthur turning the corner from the other end.

He opened his mouth to speak but Arthur moved his arms frantically, bolting towards Merlin and grappling him into one of the alcoves. His back hit the stone, and he hissed an angry, _“Ow, Arthur! What – ”_ before Arthur slapped a hand over his mouth.

“She’s stalking me!” he whispered frenetically, and Merlin only just noticed how out of breath Arthur was, how haphazard his vest had come to fit him, and how his blond hair was askew. Suddenly he understood.

“Calla was after me, too.”

“They must have planned this.”

“How? Why?”

“I don’t know? Maybe they mean to trap us, you know?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and murmured, “You clotpole, why would Calla want to trap me? I’m a _servant_ ; it’s not like she’d have anything to gain by ‘trapping’ me.”

“Perhaps, but you’re _my_ servant.”

Hearing that from Arthur’s mouth sent a pleasant whoosh through Merlin’s body. It didn’t help that he was quite suddenly aware that in an effort to keep quiet, Arthur hadn’t moved from his original position. Which, Merlin was horrified to note, was pressed flush against each other, with Merlin still squashed in between Arthur and the stone wall. Their faces were so close that Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath puff against his face.

Arthur caught his eyes, stared at him for a while, and opened his mouth to speak when Aeron’s voice reached them.

“I lost him.”

“Me, too.” That was Calla.

“They were quite faster than I was thinking.”

“Quite. I keep telling you that the king will never have a casual night with you, Aeron.”

“What about your _serving boy_? He certainly has a charming smile but I doubt he’d be willing to bed a Lady, despite how he seems to go above his station with the king.”

Calla laughed. “It’d be a quick roll in the hay; though I’d demand it not be quick. Have you _seen_ how broad and strong his shoulders are? No doubt from hauling all that water.” She hummed.

Aeron scoffed, sounding disgusted. “What is it with you and shoulders?”

“What is it with you and blonds?” Calla countered.

Merlin glanced to Arthur after having broken their stare to listen to the sisters, but he found himself utterly without words. Because Arthur, having heard them, was staring at and eyeing Merlin’s shoulders. And Arthur’s hands, which had been previously been gripping his coat had loosened, and were travelling up the muscles of his upper arms. His neck reddened, Arthur’s touch leaving fire in its wake even through the clothes.

“What about King Arthur’s neck? It’s so…thick and corded. You can tell how much training he does. I just want to sink my teeth into him.”

Arthur startled, his eyes flying up to Merlin’s, but it was too hard for him to meet Arthur’s eyes. He was currently staring at his king’s red neck, imagining his own teeth there, bruising the skin, and a shiver wrested his spine. At the thought of Arthur bearing a mark that Merlin had made, heat coiled sharply in the pit of his belly.

“Have you looked at that servant’s lips? They are much too plump for a man. I would kill for lips like those. Yet can you imagine having those lips on you? Not like those other men but soft and kissable and wonderful for…sucking.”

His whole face burned, no doubt as red as the knights’ cloaks. Merlin felt absolutely horrified – did ladies truly talk of this? He’d never heard the maids say such things despite their gossip. Yet what drew his eyes were Arthur’s, glued to his lips, his pupils blown as his tongue flicked out for just a moment to lick at his lips. Merlin’s knees nearly gave out.

“He wouldn’t, you know,” Aeron said smugly. “You heard what the maids said: Merlin’s the king’s mistress, his consort. They haven’t seen him with anyone else since he arrived in Camelot.”

A strangled noise filtered out of Arthur’s throat as he stared at Merlin, and for the first time he wished he’d squashed those rumors from those gossiping maids long ago.

“He likes the sword more than the flower, if you will,” Aeron continued.

This time, Merlin’s jaw did drop as he froze completely. He had known for some time that he preferred the company of men over women, but he had never said anything about it out loud. The maids had obviously noticed that while he hadn’t been with women, he hadn’t been with men, either – at least, not any other than Arthur, or so they thought. Obviously, the assumptions and rumors grew out of that. Merlin frowned. Bedding Arthur may have been false, but this rumor hit too close to home, and he felt too open and exposed – and hearing it from a lady who knew nothing about him, no less!

“He must be _very_ good if the king so obviously likes him so much,” Calla mused. “Did you see how close they were at feast last eve? The king clearly shows his preference – both to Merlin and to men in general.”

Arthur in turn froze, and neither one of them could breathe very well. Merlin changed his mind. Hearing them say _Arthur_ preferred men was worse. At least the Camelot maids had never said _that_.

“Which do you think?” Aeron said, sounding scandalized but amused at the same time. “Do you think Merlin is the bottom as most would expect him to be, or does King Arthur secretly _thrill_ at Merlin being the one in control?”

This time, Merlin’s whole body flushed, and he was pretty sure Arthur’s expression of horror was mirrored on his own face.

Calla snorted. “Just like you to wonder even though you’re interested.” She paused a moment. “I believe they would interchange. Merlin would mostly be in the woman’s position, but have you seen his insubordination? Obviously, King Arthur takes no offense to it whatsoever, so I think occasionally Merlin would be in the man’s position.”

“You hypocrite; you’ve thought this through!” Aeron accused, though with no heat.

“You saw them last night! Despite our efforts this morning, I think we’ve been fools to think they have eyes for anyone but each other. Besides, if it’s the sword they appreciate…”

“They wouldn’t want the flower,” Aeron finished, like they had had this conversation before, and often.

A wary voice echoed down the corridor. “What are my two sisters getting up to today? Have you been scheming?” It was Eoghan, sounding pained.

“We were attempting to corner the King and his manservant. Unfortunately, we surmise that they’re off somewhere.” When Eoghan didn’t push, Calla emphasized, “ _Together_.”

Eoghan groaned anew. “No, not again. You two have schemed enough when it comes to knights and kings and squires and manservants. Everywhere we go, you’re trying to pair people up – don’t you remember what happened the last time?”

Aeron hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, poor Sir Cadfael. He was so in love with Lady Lilith.”

“But we did bring such a happy couple together. Lady Lilith’s maidservant was obviously so in love with her, and all it took was a little nudge at Sir Cadfael to profess his undying love—”

“Scaring Lady Lilith out of her wits—”

“So that she could go running back to her maidservant—”

“Who then told Lady Lilith of _her_ undying love—”

“Which Lady Lilith _finally_ admitted to reciprocating—”

“And they wed in a small chapel, only a few witnesses. Station, you see. Not that either lady quite cared.”

The sisters sighed happily at the same time.

“I curse you,” Eoghan mumbled. “You two will be the death of me.” It seemed, however, that he could not contain his curiosity. “Hold on – what happened to Sir Cadfael? The knight was positively permanently in his cups last I saw him.”

“Married.”

“To his squire turned knight.”

“He’d tried to deny it.”

“Until he saw Lilith and her maidservant.”

“Turns out his squire turned knight hadn’t just accompanied him on every quest merely out of friendship and loyalty.”

“It was love,” Aeron sighed dreamily.

“How do you two even _know_ all of this?” Eoghan said incredulously.

“Gossip circles.”

“Many of them.”

“Besides, we’re friends with Lilith, and she’s remained friends with Sir Cadfael.”

Eoghan mumbled something.

“Now, dear brother, help us find a king and his wayward manservant.”

“Absolutely not,” the brother protested. “I will not be a part of this.”

“You don’t think there’s something between them?”

“Of course I do,” Eoghan replied quickly. “A man would have to be blind not to see that they’re besotted with each other. Station wouldn’t matter if King Arthur truly desired his manservant since he’s the king and could do what he pleases, but a man such as he is not the sort to treat his servants as if he had a right to them. I highly doubt King Arthur has ever acted on his desire.”

“Aha! So you agree with us!”

“ _No_ ,” Eoghan groaned emphatically. “I _just_ said that they were _not_. What proof do you even have for any of your assumptions?” he grunted.

“Simple,” Aeron said cheerily. “Don’t you know the royal maids know everything?”

Once again the knight moaned, and with clipped tones swiftly escorted his sisters from the corridor. But Merlin barely heard it. He was too busy staring at Arthur, his body too hot for his skin, and painfully aware of a half-hard problem in his trousers. Because despite his horror at everything the ladies had said, the images they caused to filter through his mind would not be denied, and he was helpless against it – especially since Arthur had yet to move away from him. Arthur’s body heat radiated off of him like a sun, and Merlin desperately hoped that Arthur couldn’t feel anything… _untoward_.

“Merlin,” Arthur murmured, his voice strangled. “Just _what_ have the maids been saying?”

He was already too warm, his heart pounding a frantic, staccato rhythm at Arthur’s continued closeness. He swallowed convulsively, and didn’t miss Arthur’s eyes tracking the motion. “The maids have been gossiping that… er, you and I… that you and I have… that we…”

“Spit it out, _Mer_ lin.”

“That I’ve been your bed-warmer,” he blurted breathlessly, his chest heaving. It brushed against Arthur’s with every movement, and Merlin was sure that this was what torture was.

Arthur blinked. Many times. Otherwise, his face remained the same. “Since when?”

“Since I drank the poison for you when Bayard visited. Since you left Camelot to help me protect Ealdor and my mother.”

Slowly, Arthur exhaled, glancing away. He shifted, and Merlin couldn’t help it. He moaned, Arthur’s movement dragging his hip along Merlin’s erection, and even as he cut off the sound as quickly as he could he knew there was no way Arthur hadn’t felt it or heard him. When Arthur’s eyes snapped back to his, he knew he was right.

It only took a moment, but suddenly Arthur’s hand was around Merlin’s wrist, tight as an iron shackle, and he nearly dragged him back to his chambers. Once inside, Arthur locked the heavy wood doors, and Merlin stood in the center of the room, attempting to figure a way out. Embarrassed didn’t even begin to cover how horrified he was that Arthur – his _king_ for god and country’s sake – had plainly felt Merlin’s desire. Arthur turned to face him, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You mean to tell me that this whole time you’ve been my servant, the maids have thought—” He gestured back and forth between them.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think to correct them? Since obviously you’ve known about this the whole time.”

“It never reached anyone else! Besides, if I’d tried to defend myself or even you then it would just seem like I was denying everything and then they’d _really_ go at it.” He knew he was being defensive, but he was merely waiting for Arthur’s rejection, the sharp slap of his words that Merlin knew would hurt him more than any mortal wound.

“And you didn’t think they would end up telling nobles like Aeron and Calla?”

“They never had before! Aeron and Calla must have cornered them.”

“Well, I suppose I should thank them.”

“I—What?” Merlin spluttered before Arthur was on him, a hand clutching his ribs and the other holding the back of his neck as Arthur’s mouth crushed his.

Shocked, his body bent away from the pressure.

Arthur pulled back almost immediately, his eyes suddenly too blue and insecure in a way that Merlin hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Merlin, I—I’m sorry,” Arthur whispered, and he blinked, his expression quickly closing. “I had thought—with—” his eyes flicked down, and Merlin’s erection, which had flagged in dread of Arthur’s response, twitched with the weight of the king’s stare.

His shock disappeared. He grabbed the lapels of Arthur’s vest and hauled him close. “It’s alright; surprised,” he whispered breathlessly, before sealing his mouth over Arthur’s, the passion he had denied himself rearing up with a ferocity that overrode everything, including the sound of Arthur’s back hitting the locked door.

Merlin pressed himself flush against Arthur, a mirror of their positions only minutes before, and he groaned as he felt what he hadn’t in the corridor – Arthur’s erection. As his hands fumbled with Arthur’s shirt, desire spiked sharply through his body, and he was dimly aware that this was nowhere near romantic, nowhere near what he’d wanted it to be in all the times he’d imagined them together. But now that the door was open, the floodgates released, Merlin couldn’t hold it back any more than he could command the sun to stop shining.

Arthur didn’t seem to mind, breathlessly murmuring his name and shuddering when Merlin’s hands finally, _finally_ , got to caress the imperfect skin writhing over battle-hardened muscles with more than stark professionalism. Hurriedly, as if afraid Arthur would change his mind, Merlin undid the laces of Arthur’s breeches as he latched on to the pulse point of his neck, biting and marking just as he had imagined. Arthur groaned and bucked into him, hissing at the contact.

Slowly, a sharp contrast to their rushed breathing, Merlin took Arthur in hand. Arthur nearly shouted.

“Merlin!”

Hearing his name on Arthur’s lips made his breath stutter. Merlin leaned in, covering Arthur’s sounds with his mouth as he carefully wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s cock. It was just as he had imagined it to feel, steel encased in velvet, and he ran a thumb over the thick vein. When it reached the underside of the tip, he used the pad of his thumb to push, a steadier pressure than the feather-light touches he’d been giving up to this point. Arthur grappled at his shoulders, thighs shaking under his as Merlin used the same pressure to stroke the spongy tip, already slick with pre-come. Vaguely, he wondered if Arthur had ever had anyone touch him this way; his reactions were too visceral, too unsteady to have had it done often.

Pressure at his own cock had him hissing, tearing his mouth away from Arthur’s at the pleasure pinging straight to the base of his spine. Arthur, not one to be outdone, fumbled with Merlin’s laces, and at the brush of knuckles against his erection, Merlin shivered. His forehead thumped onto Arthur’s muscular shoulder, and Arthur’s teeth nipped at a sensitive spot behind his ear that Merlin didn’t even know he had. One hand tickled the fine hairs on the nape Merlin’s neck, causing gooseflesh to prickle over his body, and the other finally untied all the laces.

Even as Merlin continued to stroke him, the first tentative brush of Arthur’s knuckles against his heated flesh nearly made his knees buckle. He had never dared to imagine Arthur’s hands on him, lest his feelings have any more excuses to run away with him. His dreams had certainly been plenty, but imagining how Arthur’s battle-calloused hands would feel on him was a territory he’d strictly forbidden his mind to visit.

As Arthur’s hand wrapped around him, he realized that even if he _had_ imagined it, it wouldn’t have been anywhere near accurate. Despite his strength, Arthur’s hand was gentle though unsteady as he bit Merlin’s jaw, his breath harsh. He fumbled one-handed to unknot Merlin’s neckerchief, pressing his lips to the hollow of Merlin’s throat once he’d tossed the offending piece of clothing somewhere in the room.

Heat pooled thick and heavy in Merlin’s belly, and he twisted his wrist just a little. It was enough to have Arthur’s body jerk, his hand tightening in response, and at the pressure Merlin groaned, fingernails digging into Arthur’s muscled back in an effort to hold himself up.

It was awkward, all hands and limbs and teeth, unaware of anything around them except the pleasure at each other’s hand. Arthur came first, a surprised, strangled noise wrested from his throat as he tipped forward into Merlin. Merlin caught his mouth, languidly stroking his tongue against Arthur’s even as he tensed and shuddered out his release, Arthur’s hand warm and supportive on his back.

They stood there for a long moment, their breathing harsh as they slowly came down. Merlin was the first to move, extricating his face from the crook of Arthur’s neck, not remembering when he’d stopped kissing Arthur.

He backed away a step, but Arthur didn’t let him go far. Still panting, his eyes glazed, Arthur grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, pointing him towards the large bed. His legs shook as if they were made of nothing more than jelly, and Arthur appeared to be in a similar state as they both flopped onto the sheets, breeches undone yet still fully clothed, staring at the ceiling.

“Merlin,” Arthur croaked. “Where on god’s green earth did you learn to do that?” he said breathlessly, and Merlin couldn’t contain the fierce spark of triumph that he had reduced Arthur, a battle-hardened warrior-king, to such a jumbled mess.

He let out a short laugh. “Just did what I like.” He swallowed, his chest heaving as he tried to get enough air. “And what I learned from others.” His heart still thumped in his chest.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, then laughed breathlessly. “I suppose you were lying then – about your virtue being intact?”

It wasn’t accusatory, but in such a vulnerable state Merlin felt as if he were thrust back those few years, when his magic had been newly discovered. He knew Arthur didn’t mean it that way, and he couldn’t decide if he was explaining or defending himself.

“It slipped out. I was feeling contrary.”

Arthur snorted, an amused, “When are you not?” murmured under his breath. Merlin chuckled, nudging Arthur with his elbow but not looking at him. Words died once again, their breathing a little more controlled now that enough time had passed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin saw Arthur turn his head to look at him. He reciprocated the gesture, and sucked in a breath to find Arthur’s eyes bright, a tentative smile on his face. Slowly, Arthur levered himself onto his elbow, a hand tentatively reaching out to rest on the curve of Merlin’s shoulder. His hand only stayed there for a moment before carefully cupping the back of Merlin’s neck. The calloused pads of Arthur’s hand prickled his already sensitive skin, and he shivered. Yet his eyes never left Arthur’s, and he smiled.

At seeing his smile, Arthur’s widened, and he caught Merlin’s mouth in his. Merlin shifted his hips closer until they were against Arthur’s, their legs tangling together from where they hung off the side of the bed. His hands lost any hesitation they might have had as they roamed Arthur’s back. Arthur’s hand moved beneath Merlin’s tunic, a thumb brushing over his nipple. He groaned, thrusting a hand in Arthur’s hair as his hips bucked.

Nearly a dozen questions flitted through Merlin’s mind, but as Arthur let out a strangled noise and hurriedly attempted to shove Merlin further onto the bed, their limbs tangling and Arthur accidentally kneeing Merlin in the groin, or Merlin accidentally cracking an elbow against Arthur’s jaw, and they laughed at the awkwardness until Arthur finally sank deeply into his body, Merlin figured those questions could be answered later.

 

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I had actually planned to write out the sex implied in the last paragraph, but nothing seemed to fit. The lead-in to the scene kept getting extremely serious. Not that I don’t love Arthur-Merlin heart-to-hearts, but it just didn’t seem to fit with the overall comedic nature of the story. So, I gave up and decided to end it there, a pretty good place if I do say so myself. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me know what you think.


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